


Only Shadows

by ffoulkes_no



Category: The Dresden Files (TV), The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, kind've, short-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffoulkes_no/pseuds/ffoulkes_no
Summary: Bob explains the true nature of ghosts.





	Only Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt to reconcile the books and the TV show, re: ghosts.
> 
> Originally posted to my LJ in 2010.

The little ectoform rolled around in ecstatic delight, strengthened by the energy Bob had given it. It took little hops off the surface of the table, bobbing along like a tiny, drunk helium balloon.  
  
Harry smiled and put out his hand. It rolled right through it, leaving a slight tingle in his flesh. "Huh," he said, "it's not cold."  
  
"No," Bob said, "it would not be. It is immature. It has not yet acquired the necessary negative emotions to elicit feelings of discomfort in the living."  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry looked up from the ectoform, which had taken to rolling back and forth through his fingers, flashing a pleasing orange with each incursion. If it could make noise, Harry was sure it would have been giggling.  
  
Bob's look turned dark for a moment. Harry caught it, though Bob quickly tried to cover his slip with his typical mask of nonchalance. "How are ghosts formed, Harry?" He asked, adjusting one cuff with forced attention.  
  
Harry chewed his lip. Was this a trick question? "They're...made when a person dies, and they have unfinished business here, in the mortal world," he said, licking at his lips. He then added, softly, "Or when someone keeps a soul here, intentionally."  
  
"So, ghosts are souls?"  
  
Harry winced. That was Bob-Teacher-Mode, and it typically only came out when Harry had made an error and Bob wanted his student to figure the correct answer on his own. Harry gave Bob a questioning look, "Yes. They are. Why are you even...?"  
  
"Look at the ectoform, Harry," Bob said. "It exists on the same plane as ghosts. It feeds upon the same energies. It floats upon the air and travels without a sound. Solid objects may as well be tissue, so far as it knows," he stated, motioning to the little ball of light. The ectoform seemed to reach for Bob's outstretched hand, and when Bob pulled it away, it wobbled, searching, almost alarmed. "We are made of the same stuff," Bob continued, "the same matter, save for one crucial component."  
  
"A soul," Harry offered.  
  
Bob shook his head, sadly, "Pain."  
  
"Ghosts are naught but shadows, Harry," Bob said evenly. "The stronger the emotions, the stronger the impression left in the ectoplasm of the ectoform." He had begun to worry at his hands, rubbing at his thumbs in the way that, Harry knew, meant he was uncomfortable. Still, he continued, "Most ghosts are formed of grief, pain, and anger. Some are formed of loss. The ectoforms feed on their host's dying energies and, in that moment, become whole."  
  
"Bob," Harry began, "you're not--"  
  
The ghost held up a hand, "The circumstances of my-- _of his_ \--death were so horrific and so terrible, the imprint left upon the unfortunate ectoform was..." He sighed softly through his nose, "Well, unprecedented." Harry tried again to speak, and once again, Bob silenced him: "All of his knowledge, all of his sense of self was burned in. Seared into my very being." He smiled then, sadly, "For the first few centuries, I was even convinced that I was the man. I remembered, so clearly, all of the details of his life. His love. His anger. But, eventually, I came to realize that none of those memories or emotions were truly mine. They were only shadows."  
  
Harry reached for his friend, though he knew he couldn't hold him, "Oh, Bob..."  
  
The ghost moved away, just beyond Harry's touch. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge was a great and terrible man," he said, "and, should you have met him, you would have been disgusted by what he was. A man tainted so by the Black that even love no longer held sway in his heart." Bob turned away, and Harry was sure the old ghost was crying. "At one time, he was a good man, honest and, sometimes, even kind. He loved. And... was loved, in return. But there, at the end, there was only hate," he swiped once, quickly, at the spectral tears, "and for centuries, that is all I was, as well."  
  
Harry made one last attempt to touch his friend, only to grab at chilling smoke as the ghost dematerialized and flowed silently back into his skull. The wizard sat down heavily in his office chair, reacting only to allow the ectoform to curl into a small, glowing ball in his hand and fade into whatever it considered sleep.


End file.
